~ Theatre, Feminism & Poetry.

Sowing and Reaping

When Love comes, it will not be a labyrinth.
There will be no impenetrable walls,
no winding paths to nowhere,
no striving, no goal that you are eager to achieve
or place that you think you need to be.

When Love comes, it will be a key
that opens a sturdy wooden garden gate.
In that garden, you’ll do the work.
Build the raised beds, pour in the soil,
curate the seeds, plant them, water and wait.

Love is not a meandering artery
with a beginning, middle and end.
Love is growth and the seasons,
if you’re lucky.

I ask you to be patient
and wait for that key.
And just when you have given up
all hope of it ever appearing,
a magpie will drop it in your lap
and fly away, cackling.